


Strangers in the night, two lonely people

by cigarettesandalcohol



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 1980s perm and mustaches lol, Closeted Character, Flashbacks, Football, Gen, Grumpy Old Men, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, M/M, Not really a ship, Regret, Self-Reflection, discussed heart-attacks, everything is just hinted and subtle, it's kinda sad actually, it's not THAT deep but it is kinda deep, near death and near-career-ending experiences, not fully slash, possibly closeted character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cigarettesandalcohol/pseuds/cigarettesandalcohol
Summary: "It can do things to your mind, you know? Just a thing someone says. And then you can only think - I need to be better than that. Stronger. Why has it come to this? Have I allowed this?"Roy listened quietly, nodding. He's never had a real chance to talk about things like that - things that affected him, as a player, as a manager, as a person. He never wanted to bother Theresa with that. Denis never seemed to care about what people were saying. And Lee was the last person to take him seriously with such talk. It was all coming to him now - just how lonely he's felt for all those years, with no one to talk to.
Relationships: Graeme Souness/Roy Keane (if you squint), Jamie Carragher/Gary Neville (hinted)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry but you're the one who opened this story. Feedback is welcome! Don't worry, the "ship" is not really that much there. Everything is subtle and hinted. For historical accuracies and information, check the end of the story.  
> I mixed up a few different situations from Sky Sports - a Liverpool-Man Utd match, Roy+Graeme+Gary+Jamie being in a studio together, Roy talking about "hugging and kissing in the tunnel" and Souness talking about the homophobia in football. It all happened, though on different days - but in my story, it's all mashed together.

Gary was still arguing with Jamie when the cameras stopped rolling, the pair of them could go on forever. Roy actually had to smile at that; he's always known Gary as someone who would never shut up and knowing that he hasn't changed at all was comfortingly familiar. Gary the talker. That should have been his nickname. He was always talking about something he'd heard or something he'd seen or maybe even something that he'd thought - it was actually funny to see him being the same after all those years. 

"Jamie, Jamie, you're not listening - " Roy followed them with his eyes, still smiling. They were like two kids together - in a nice way.

"Roy?" There was a calm voice, contrasting to Gary's passionate rant and Jamie's high-pitched attempts to speak. "Would you mind - " There was a bit of hesitation for a moment. " - stopping for a glass of wine with me?"

The words caught him by surprise. He's never had many straightforward invitations on his plate - sometimes his pals would suggest a pint together, but never in such a polite manner. _Oi oi, who's up for a pint?_ was a much more used invitation in his days.

Graeme was just adjusting the lapels of his jacket. 

The question caught Roy unprepared, he's thought he would end the session and go straight to the garage for his car and go home, but the invitation was changing all his plans.

"Wine?" He didn't mean to sound rude but - well. It just slipped out. He wasn't ready for more of an interaction. 

"Well - " Souness' wolf's grin appeared out of nowhere. "Wine is not an obligation."

"Don't you need to drive back home?"

"That's a bit rude," Graeme said, losing the smile for a while. _Was it?_ Roy wondered. "I'm staying in Manchester for tonight actually. I think I can walk to the hotel after a glass of wine."

"Gary's hotel?"

Neville actually turned around when he heard his name, and blinked, confused. "Sorry?"

Roy smirked. "Nothing, don't worry - "

"What about the hotel?" Gary's switch into a completely serious voice - after his passionate and over-the-top arguing with Carra was hilarious, at least to Roy. Still the same touchy and twitchy Nev, always ready to jump straight into an argument. 

"Nothing Gary. Look, Jamie's waiting for you."

Gary was still staring at them suspiciously for a moment before he actually reacted and turned back towards Jamie. 

"They're like little kids sometimes," Souness said quietly and Roy had to smile again because it has been on his mind the whole evening, whenever the two younger pundits interacted. "Inseparable." He paused for a moment. "It's good to have someone new here. Someone more - mature."

Roy smiled but initially didn't know how to react to this subtle praise - he wasn't good at it.

"Someone old," he corrected Souness, waiting for a reaction. Making himself comfortable while watching other people's discomfort was the usual way of getting out of awkward situations.

"Not necessarily old, we're not _old_." The ' _we'_ made Roy smile again; he's never considered himself to be even close to the same generation as Souness.

They walked out of the studio; Gary and Jamie were in the corridor, still arguing and gesticulating.

"Goodnight, Gary. Goodnight, Jamie." Souness passed them with a subtle nod, as a schoolmaster would walk past the famed school troublemakers; not wanting to engage in any more contact while still remaining his cool and collected facade. He stopped by the elevator, pressing the button. "So?" he asked, turning back to Roy.

There were only three options, and he had to be quick. Staying with Jamie and Nev would be a terrible decision, they wouldn't be happy about that. Also, why would he do that? He's had enough of the two squeaky frenemies for a day. Going straight home would be better - the usual cycle. Work, car, home. A late dinner in the dining room alone, Theresa watching a movie, kids sleeping already. The comfort of a well-known. Or a drink with Souness - that was a challenge. Everything unusual was a challenge, even starting his work as a pundit used to be, but by now he's grown used to the ritual of a Saturday or a Sunday match, analysis and night. He's never had a glass with Graeme though. That would be a challenge. Sitting in a studio with him was one thing, especially when there was the always-so-polite David Jones regulating any discussion and the never-ending banter from the younger guys.

"Yeah, I'll go." It wasn't like he didn't want to go; he just never dared to suggest it. It was like he was twenty-three again, trying to make friends at Manchester United. " ' night Gary. 'night, Jamie." He joined Graeme at the elevator as if to make a point - the grown-ups were leaving the kids behind.

"It almost seems like a Scouser and a Mancunian can get on after all," Souness pointed out as they stepped into the elevator almost in sync. 

"Us or them?"

"Well - _all of us_."

"I think I'm as Mancunian as you are Scouse. _Fake_."

Graeme smirked and pressed the button, not waiting whether Neville and Carragher decide to join them or not. "I thought you're sarcastic only while on air."

"Do you think that would get me a reputation?"

The elevator doors closed and the whole ride was wordless. Only when they stepped out, Souness just calmly lead the way. "What a match, right?"

"For Liverpool, yeah."

"No, no, Man U played well today."

 _Cheeky prick_ was the ultimate thought on Roy's mind, but he swallowed it. No point getting into a heated discussion now. Maybe if it was back in the studio - now it just wasn't worth the energy.

"Do you still support them?" Souness asked as they exited the building. "After all those - "

"Well, of course - it's not without reservations. But ultimately, yes. - Are we really going to Gary's hotel?"

"It's the closest option. Though not the best - "

"You know, he talks too much sometimes, but I still have my loyalty towards him - "

"No, I'm just joking. I respect him, really."

"How does Gary Neville earn respect?"

Souness laughed, shaking his head. "He's doing a good job. I like seeing him go crazy over anything Manchester related. The job is not boring at least."

"It's never boring with Nev."

"Then I hope his hotel is really nice."

"Are you actually staying there?" Keane was almost impressed.

"I didn't have much choice, really. It's close to the stadium - I'm not a fan of walking around Manchester, you know."

"You could still get around in a car - "

Souness shook his head once again. "Nah, that's just - it's easier to stay right here. I don't care who the owner of the hotel is. The service has been good so far, and I've only checked in and went straight to the stadium - "

"Does Gary know?"

"Do you think I'd tell him? There would be a killing commando at my door in the morning. But my guess is he'll know sooner or later - "

"He should add you to his little black book of star guests."

"Well - " Graeme shrugged. "It's business. I've got the money - and he's got a hotel. Fair play to him."

"He's always been keeping himself busy."

"Yeah?"

"You should have seen him and his brother at the training - they were like two ferrets." He smiled upon the memory - there was always something funny about the Nevilles back in the day, they always seemed to be trying way too hard, much to the amusement of others. "I mean it in a nice way," he added quickly but immediately realized it's unnecessary - Souness was the last person who would judge him for a bit of some old-timey banter and joke about Neville. "It's really nice that we can still work together, after all those years. When I left United, he sent me a message. Saying how he's sorry and all that. I think I might have told him to fuck off because the sympathy is not gonna get me back in the team, he should have spoken up before - but then we texted regularly, you know, for Christmas and birthdays - And now we're sat in the same studio every month, just two pundits."

"I think he's still a bit - wary," Souness suggested. "You're still the captain for him I think."

"Poor Gary."

The porter at the restaurant opened the door for them and let them in; Roy was immediately alert, looking around to spot a possible annoying fan before they even realize who's just come in - but everyone looked busy and interested in their current tasks, nobody even raised their heads, except for the waitress who immediately lead them into the restaurant and showed them a table for two.

"What is it going to be then?" Graeme asked, like a perfect host, as they sat down, and he held his hand half raised to let the waitress know that they will order immediately.

"Just - I can't drink, just something - a juice - "

"We have fresh orange juice - we can make it with strawberries if you'd like - " the waitress offered with a professional smile.

"Yeah - yeah, I suppose - thank you."

"I'll have a glass of Chateau Guiraud please," Souness added, finishing their order. When the waitress left, he folded his arms across his chest. " _An orange juice with strawberries_?"

It was ridiculous, Roy had to admit that. He could have a glass of wine. That wouldn't hurt. One glass of wine - but he pushed the thought away immediately. He preferred to drink only when the family was around. With other people, he's already managed to get clean and order non-alcoholic drinks. Sometimes it felt weird - although he would still have a pint sometimes with his friends, but never more than that. Now it was no time for a pint - and it felt safer to just order a juice. Or water. Or anything non-alcoholic. 

"Oh, I'm sorry - " Souness looked like he's just had a moment of clarity. "Are you okay with that - ?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's my own decision, I'm just trying to not drink too much when I'm out like this - " He cleared his throat, slightly uncomfortable with the amount of attention given to his drink of choice.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable - "

"Well - " It was fine, it really was, but it would be miles better if they weren't even discussing it. Graeme was trying to be polite, that was clear, but he was just trying too much. "I didn't know you could drink with your health - "

Souness actually laughed at that, darkly but with a certain level of respect. _Good one, Keano. Good one_. It was actually then that Roy has decided to stop worrying too much about his words. Souness is a man of the same kind after all. He can take a morbid jab. He can take dark humor. He won't break down. And that was good.

"If my heart can take three or four hours of Neville and Carragher, I think it can deal with a tiny bit of alcohol."

"Good point. Especially today - Jesus, I haven't seen Gary so passionate about anything for a long time!"

"You mean that campaign?"

"Yeah. I kind of expected to see him pull a rainbow flag out of his pocket or something - " He shook his head. "Jesus - he never seemed to be some kind of an activist - "

They both shared a laugh, polite and short, shaking their heads at the passion and dedication shown by their younger colleagues. Maybe they were too cynical for that - or maybe they just didn't like to talk about such things publicly.

"But it's a good thing," Souness protested, looking serious all of sudden. Roy's eyes were fixed on him now. "That it's talked about."

The waitress brought their drinks; a nice fancy glass of juice for Roy and a classic glass of wine for Graeme. Keane nodded and thanked her before turning back to Souness: "There's too much fuss about it -"

"But it's still not enough. _Apparently_."

Keane sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's not a big deal, just - someone needs to step up and say it. Like Donal Óg Cusack. Just get on with it." Souness stared at him as if he didn't know who Donal Óg Cusack was. "You won't be treated differently by the media or by the coach. And with the teammates - it's your job to show them you're not different no matter who you are."

"But it's still not easy - nobody in the top-flight clubs would just say it out of the blue - "

Roy raised his glass, gesturing a silent ' _cheers_ ' before drinking. 

"And it's just not right," Souness continued, sounding surprisingly invested, just as he did in the studio earlier. "It shouldn't be a big deal - but unless someone is the first one - it will always be. Cheers," he finished, raising his wine a taking a sip. 

"But it's not up to us, after all - "

"Yes, of course, that's up to the players themselves but - there has to be an environment that's just right - "

"Yeah, it's sad, but - we can just talk. You don't know the struggle, I don't know the struggle - " The pause that followed sounded ominous. "It's up to the new generation after all."

* * *

_"Where have you been last night? I heard you were a professional." Graeme didn't mean to bother Kenny already after just one night of rooming together, but he couldn't help it. He's heard the stories of Dalglish's professionalism and great character and he hoped to have a chat in the evening, but after dinner, Kenny just disappeared and didn't come to their room until it was half midnight and Souness was just too tired of waiting for his roommate anymore._

_He sat up straight in his chair, hoping to make everyone listen to his joke. "That's what everyone told me - stay close to Kenny Dalglish, he's the best professional in the game! And I'm sitting there on my bed, watching some stupid German TV, waiting for him to come - where the hell is he? It's past eleven, we have a game tomorrow, and this great professional is God knows where probably chasing some supermodels in a disco bar or something - "_

_"I was just waiting for you to fall asleep you know?" Kenny was giggling and all the other lads seemed to be amused as well. "The lads said you're gay so I just said - fuck this, I'm not staying there in the evening with a poof, I'm out - " Everyone burst out laughing. "Jesus Christ I wouldn't wanna see their faces in the morning, so I told them - lads, let's go, leave Souey in the room, he's probably watching some fag porn anyway, I'm not going there - "_

_The laughter was overwhelming._

_"It's the hair!" someone exclaimed. "Who the hell uses all that shit on their hair?"_

_He put his cup with the morning tea down and joined in the uproar._

* * *

"Maybe - maybe it is mainly about the young generation. It has to be the players themselves, of course - But we need to make sure the football environment is ready for that. And that people don't react badly if that happens." He started to feel a bit worried that Roy might be getting annoyed by his speeches, but Keano looked surprisingly calm and ready to continue in the discussion.

"But the players themselves need to be ready for that. We cannot make them come out and say anything. It's their decision. And it's a private decision."

"I agree, I completely agree. But it would be a great step forward."

"It would, yeah."

Roy took another sip of his orange juice.

* * *

_"Another one? Hey - want another one?" Lee was shaking Roy's shoulder in a vain attempt to get his attention. "Or we'll go to the other place I was telling you about?"_

_His vision was blurry and his body hurt, he's had too much drink already and he was feeling sick of it, how many lagers did they have at the first pub anyway? He's paid for three but it definitely wasn't three - maybe Lee was just picking up the tab tonight. Or they left without proper paying. Who knows. He made a poor attempt to get up before realizing it was the other place, not this one, and he was definitely not going back now._

_"So what?"_

_Lee was still trying to make him choose but Roy had forgotten already what the two options were._

_'One for the road', he wanted to say, managing just an extremely drunk-sounding " - fadaroad - " Jesus, his head was throbbing. All the glass in front of him couldn't have been his though - has everyone else left already? Sharpey nodded, getting up and making his way through the crowded room to the bar - but the room was swinging, leaning to one side -_

_He finally got up as well, taking his leather jacket and dropping his wallet in the process. "Fuck - " Now the word came out nice and clear. He got down on his knees, waiting for a moment for his head to get used to this position, and then grabbed the wallet off the ground. While getting up, his head got dizzy again, and he quickly reached for the side of the table for support. A distinctive sound of shattered glass echoed around the room. He didn't wait for anyone to turn around and see the mess - he made a move, stepping right into the glass pile, and staggered towards the bar._

_"Lee! Lee!" People were looking at him disapprovingly and he couldn't understand why he could still walk, right? He wasn't in such a bad state after all - and he was just looking for his friend. "Lee!"_

_Lee emerged from the faceless crowd of people with a shot glass in each hand._

_"Lee Sharpey Sharpe!" Roy shouted, grabbing his shoulder._

_"For fuck's sake, don't spill it!" Sharpe handed him one of the glasses. "And shut up, I'm Ryan fucking Palmer tonight."_

_"Ryan! Jesus I couldn't - !" He shook his had and chugged the drink._

_Lee did the same with his. "Let's get outta here before they realize - "_

_Lee always got recognized, and he never really played the "fake name" game for too long, especially when it was a pretty girl who recognized him; but he enjoyed the idea of "having to go unrecognized". "This other place is great - it's kinda new and - well, you'll see - "_

_He remembered the way only vaguely, like snapshots that somebody would take of their drunken shenanigans in downtown Manchester. The street - some taxis passing by and Lee telling him to get back on the curb before someone hits him - neon lights and a food stand selling kebaps -_

_"Ferguson would kill us - " Sharpey laughed, looking for money in his pocket as he ordered two döners to go, and Roy put a finger to his lips._

_"Shut up - " he gestured, not subtly pointing at the poor worker of the food stand, who fortunately didn't pay attention to the blabbering of his two late-night customers._

_They stuffed their faces with the food, continuing their way as Lee suggested, across various streets and crossings, until Roy saw more neon lights and groups of people chatting in front of the bars and discos that this particular street seemed to be full of._

_"This one - " Lee dragged him with his greasy hands towards one of the entrances. There were a lot of voices shouting over each other and Roy just realized he's feeling sleepy, although he's sobered up outside - Lee was talking to someone that Roy didn't pay attention to and soon they were inside. "Find a seat, I'll bring the drinks."_

_"Tequilas," Roy suggested before they split, with Lee inevitably aiming for the bar and Roy looking at the stools and chairs that were scattered all around the place. There was loud music playing, something crazy, funky, and 80's sounding, and he slumped down at one of the chairs just at the moment that one song finished and another one started playing._

_Tequilas were there - and some more music - and Lee was laughing, saying something about his friends there, and the music was playing, Gloria Gaynor? Roy knew he shouldn't even be recognizing that music. He gulped down the tequila and put the shot glass on the table._

_"Hey there." There was a girl sitting down next to Lee, and Roy immediately felt out of place and awkward, like he shouldn't even be there._

_"I'll get us more drinks, right?" Lee said, winking, and he was gone before Roy could protest._

_"Hey, who are you? One of Lee's friends?" the girl said, shifting closer to him._

_"Yeah, I'm actually - " Only now he realized it, how weird this girl was._

_A girl._

_Well -_

_He looked at her properly for the first time, trying to ignore the dress and hair and make-up._

_Something was off with her, but he didn't want to stare. He didn't really want to talk to her at all; he just prayed Lee would come back soon -_

_"What's your name?"_

_He looked at her cautiously, trying to make up his mind whether he should or not reveal his true identity. He was still hoping Lee would return with the promised drinks._

_"You're not talking to me?"_

_"My friend's up there - " he tried to explain, feeling cornered._

_"But you're here."_

_"I gotta go." He got out of his seat and tried to get lost in the crowd on his way to the bar counter - where Lee was in a jovial discussion with someone he couldn't recognize._

_"Lee?" He felt like a needy child, calling out to his friends again._

_"Roy! - " The name-game was forgotten by now. "Roy - this is Mike. Mike - Roy! He's one of the owners, Roy. Taking good care of his customers - "_

_"My pleasure," 'Mike' said as Roy muttered something of a greeting, but instead of shaking his head, he just touched his shoulder and then his arm, smiling. "Sharpey's the best lad around. Always bringing new customers, how do you do it, Sharpey." Roy felt slightly uncomfortable and he tried to get away from the touch. "Anyway, one round's on me, boys. What's it gonna be? The usual?"_

_"Yeah, the usual - " Lee's and Mike's pally behavior annoyed Roy. He wasn't ready for some of Sharpey's long-lost pals now, and the fact that Lee was now being Lee again, using his charm and popularity with seemingly everyone, was annoying him. Mike ordered them some Margaritas; drinks so fancy that Roy feared he might break the glass in his hand. Mike was talking, gesturing with a strange elegance and floatiness, explaining something to Lee, laughing with his eyes glued to the United heartthrob. Roy found himself grumpy, with an empty glass, and feeling discomforted. He didn't plan any of this and leaving things to Lee wasn't the best idea. He was getting sober and that was a bad sign if he wanted the night to continue. "I'll have another tequila!" he said, out of nowhere, to nobody in particular, right in the middle of Lee's sentence._

_"I'm paying for you tonight," Mike smiled, waving at the bartender._

_Well right, you cunt, Roy grinned. We'll see about that._

_He managed to maintain and painfully long and uncomfortable eye-contact with Mike while downing another shot._

_"Well look at him, he's not a lightweight like you," Mike said, raising his eyebrows. "Just keep him away from some of those lads before they get too friendly - "He and Sharpe exchanged knowing smirks before Lee pulled Roy closer, wrapping his arm around him. "Roy here never gets friendly with anyone."_

_"You might be surprised," Mike shrugged and placed his own empty glass on the counter. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good night, Sharpey - When you're ordering, just say it's on me or on the house, they'll know - "_

_"Thanks, mate."_

_Mike 'the owner' disappeared into the crowd and Roy leaned closer to Lee's ear, trying to speak quietly while still having to shout over the loud music. "He looks like a fag."_

_To his own surprise, Lee burst out laughing. "It might be because he is - !"_

_"Wait, what?" He turned around, trying to find Mike with his eyes, but there were just too many people and too much smoke around that was getting in his eyes - "Is he? What's this, some fucking den, or what?"_

_Lee shrugged, smiling innocently. "It's Canal Street, what do you expect - "_

_"Canal - Canal Street?" he stuttered. Canal Street. Of course, Canal Street, the place everyone joked about. The rainbow alley. See you in Canal Street - and a wink, a smirk, and laughter that was telling - Canal Street must have been a horrible place. At least that's how it seemed in the stories he's heard. And the anecdotes and jokes he's heard in the dressing room, the usual mocking and teasing - 'Show them the city but stop at the Canal Street' - 'Or rather don't stop there at all!' He understood the meaning of the jokes, though not the basis of them, he wasn't local and he didn't know much of the city center, unlike Lee. "What the fuck are we doing here then?"_

_"It's a good bar and Mike's a nice guy - "_

_"The lads would kill us - "_

_"Jesus fucking Christ who cares? Don't be stupid. You can go wherever you fucking want to."_

_"Why here? I don't wanna be here with some fucking queers - "_

_Sharpe shook his head. "Leave them be."_

_"Why did you bring me here?"_

_"To have some fun! To have a craic! What do you think? It's a bar for fuck's sake." Then he muttered, with lips almost sealed "Don't fucking shout it here."_

_"It's a gay bar! What are we doing - what are you doing here, making friends with them?"_

_"Don't be so loud - "_

_"And why not?"_ _Roy rubbed his shoulder frantically as if to get rid of Mike's touch that might have stained his shirt. "Fucking langer, you- "_

 _"Let's get outta here - " Lee grabbed him by the shirt decisively, pushing him towards the exit._ _"Why the fuck are you so pressed about it? It's a bar, it's just a fucking bar!" he hissed, pushing Roy onto the street again._

_It wasn't 'just a bar' in Roy's mind. It was everything that was wrong. It was everything that everyone has always joked about. It was everything that was wrong and despicable and terrible and that deserved condemnation. Everything that he's heard about since he was a wee boy; the worst and most sinful hell that his mates, classmates, teammates, and even friends joked cruelly about. And of course, Lee fucking Sharpe had to be right there, meddling with the queers, because, after all, he was such a free spirit._

_But he wasn't like that._

_He remembered it well how some people acted._

_His friend once hugged him. At primary school. He was a classmate, and he went to the same junior football club as him. That was all there was. He hugged him, God knows why, when they were waiting in the line for lunch as the school canteen. They were called queers from that day onwards._

_It's been almost twenty years, and Roy still remembered his confusion. 'Mom, what is queer?'_

_He made a promise to himself to never hug another guy in his life after that._

_Or, even better, to never be close to any guy, ever, again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Roy Keane and Lee Sharpe were best buddies in the 1990's Manchester. Sharpe was quite a flamboyant party man who dragged Roy along through the dance-clubs and bars of Manchester on a regular basis  
> \- I really don't know whether they have ever been to a gay club together but IMHO Lee is the one person I believe would not mind being there, even in the overall homophobic circumstances of 1990s football  
> \- the story about Kenny Dalglish and Graeme Souness's first rooming together is true - Kenny didn't want to be in the room with Graeme in the evening because he thought Graeme was gay, so he only came in after Graeme had fallen asleep  
> \- Graeme Souness has indeed been surprisingly vocal in his support of LGBT+ players, especially for a person of his "known conservatism" in many other things. He's also quite surprisingly open to admitting how terribly homophobic the players and dressing rooms in the 1970s-1990s were (and possibly today still are)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to the second part of this story! For information and explanations, scroll down to the end notes. To be honest, I enjoy the Keane-Souness balance (tbh I enjoy the balance of the whole Sky Sports team), and I'm surprised how quickly I was able to transform it into a story. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is welcome! :)

_Girls were nice, of course, and he's always liked them. The women he dated while in Liverpool were always the best ones, the ones that left the other lads drooling and wondering what is it that makes him the popular ladies' man when they all same terrible hairstyles and questionable fashion choices. “I'm the idol of the ladies; Champagne Charlie is my name" - that was the t-shirt they bought him in '84. Maybe he didn't like the women that much - maybe he just liked to make other jealous and himself feel successful. Success in the game, success in love, what else could he possibly want._

_Girls were nice, of course, and it looked good in the public eye. Liverpool captain and Miss World. Liverpool captain and a millionaire heiress. There weren't really many of them, although his teammates always made fun of him for changing his partners every now and then and not settling down. 'You need to browse a bit before you choose,' was his usual answer._

_Girls were nice, of course; they had big hair and long legs and high heels, and they laughed at his jokes in a high pitched voice and blushed when he said something nice and then giggled and fluttered their lashes, but he didn't dream of that. He had a goal - a wife, a family, a villa, and a car - but the way to get those didn't interest him that much. He pictured his dream life in twenty years - a retired footballer, probably a football manager, with a wife and three or four kids, waiting for him to come home; because that was the family image he's had from his childhood, from his parents. His parents were the loveliest people on the planet, they loved and spoiled him and his two brothers to no end, and he knew he wanted to have a similar home himself once he gets older._

_He thought he was just being cynical and realistic when he was well into a relationship - and still didn't feel anything real, anything deep, anything intimate and meaningful._

_He proposed to Danielle anyway._

* * *

"You know," Roy went on. "I said some pretty dumb things, back in my playing days, and only now I realize it might have been a problem. And Gary - I don't remember what he said or didn't, but he was living in that dressing room as well. But Gary - he tries his best. There's no getting away from that. He thinks he's a well known public figure and he speaks up, well done to him. Especially when you consider how the dressing rooms looked when we were playing - or when you were playing." Souness nodded. "I suppose it must have been similar or even worse."

"I think it was the same everywhere. And probably still is. You know, when we only now realize how terrible we must have been - "

"Of course back then, we didn't care about such things."

"Yes." Souness struggled to find the right words. "It's strange to think about it now, right? That there must have been some players - who suffered. In such a dressing room. With the homophobia."

"Oh, yeah." He didn't want to sound too sappy. "But then again, back in our playing days, players were real men. They wouldn't crumble because somebody said something - "

* * *

_"Jesus fucking Christ what are you two, boyfriends?" he snarred at teary Gary, who was snuggling David as if there was no tomorrow. They all have had a few, some champagne, of course, and everyone has had their photos with the trophy taken, and what followed, was a party with no rules, with people being thrown into the dipping pool, manager with an untied tie and a shirt that the lads poured champagne all over, and some people who probably shouldn't even be there - he should have brought in his brothers, nobody would notice that. They were probably having a great time in a pub somewhere in the city._

_He was feeling miserable. He started drinking right after lunch with Scholsey, and by the time the match started, he was already numbed enough to ignore the atmosphere and Ferguson's suspicious look. But the glass partition between him and his playing teammates disappeared for a moment, especially when he was shaking their hands, wishing them good luck. Once he was sat down, he was alone again, in his own world behind the partition; he wasn't part of the team once again. He sobered up during the match, adrenaline has won, and when it was all over, he just couldn't get drunk again, no matter how much he tried. He only got moody and miserably grumpy; he knew it; he hated it._

_He was annoyed with himself for feeling that way, and with everyone else for being happy and intimate and living for the moment as if there was nothing else to think about._

_And when everyone started jumping and screaming and singing, he noticed he didn't have anyone to hug._

_Not like he would want to anyway._

* * *

"I didn't expect _you_ to be so vocal in support," Roy said after another few sips of his drink.

"I suppose we all mellow with age - I didn't expect myself to be in this place either. But you realize that some things are...different than you had thought when you were younger, twenty, twenty-five years old. I suppose I had to learn the hard way - "

Roy quickly nodded. He didn't mind the discussion to have an edge, but he didn't mean to push Souness into talking about his operations.

But the Scotsman continued, slowly, putting an emphasis on every word. "I was afraid. Legitimately afraid. Back in ninety-two, I thought I was going to die. I didn't know what it was that was wrong with me. Coronary heart disease - but I was thirty-nine and I thought it was a problem of people over sixty. And then in the hospital, it was the worst time of my life. And all that came afterward - I was getting paranoid at my own heartbeat. And I didn't want to just lie there in my bed, dying; I thought I had to move, do something, do more - to _have more of my life_." The heavy subject made Roy feel uneasy, but it was at the same time fascinating, seeing a man like Souness talk so openly about being weak. Somewhat admirable. "I ended up collapsing when I tried to walk." Souness laughed dryly. "Poor nurses! I was terrible. I was thinking too much, realizing how much I should have done and didn't, and regretting a lot of things - and I wanted to get out of there." He sighed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you with my health."

"No, no, that's no bother at all, it's....interesting. To hear about it, actually, because - " He almost said ' _Because men like us don't usually talk about being weak_ '. "Because it can happen to anyone - " He left the thought unfinished. " _To anyone_. I remember the match afterward - Liverpool versus Sunderland it was, right? The FA Cup Final."

Souness smiled, pleased that Keane remembered. "Doctors told me not to go. of course I went. I thought - _if I die, at least it's Wembley and the finals_. But I didn't. I took it almost as an opportunity, a sign. Now things need to change - I'm trying my best. But you can't do everything just with a snap of fingers."

* * *

_"Oooooh, look at Charlie!" Someone wolf-whistled at him jokingly, and he couldn't hide his smile. "Straight outta magazine!"_

_He loved it. He loved a certain kind of attention. He loved it when people noticed him. Anyone, really, in any way, and he's always been that way. At school, with friends, in the dressing room, he loved to stand out, just enough to stay true to his style - or at least what he felt was right for him - and still have the respect of his teammates._ _'If he was a chocolate soldier, he would have eaten himself.' There was certainly some truth in that, however ridiculous it sounded. There was nothing wrong with loving oneself, was there?_

_It wasn't pure confidence that made him that way. All his talks and remarks about "always knowing how good he was" and "just believing in himself" were not quite true. There was very little confidence actually when he was growing up and trying to make it. But he noticed one important thing - he could make people around him believe he was confident. He could just shrug, smirk, laugh something off, get up and get going again, leaving his classmates and teammates in awe - "He knows what he's doing, he has his goals set, he's gonna go far." And he adopted this thought, forcing himself to believe that._

_He was gonna go far. And he was gonna have a good career and then possibly a managerial career and he was gonna marry a good-looking woman who would be by his side when his team wins yet another trophy - it was all well planned._

_"Somebody's gotta look good in our group," he said nonchalantly as he joined the group of his teammates by the poolside. He took off his sunglasses with a movie-like gesture, and checked the surroundings - the rest of their holiday gang was just relaxing around the pool, either on the deck chairs underneath the colorful umbrellas or sitting with their legs dipped in the pool, enjoying the cool water._

_The wives and girlfriends seemed to enjoy the joint holiday, and they all get on pretty well; Danielle wouldn't stop talking about how much fun the other ladies were and she didn't miss him one bit last evening when he was sitting with his pals in a bar. She loved being away from home, and away from England, at least for a week. And she could finally talk to someone with similar experiences. 'You know, I think it would be better if you guys were married and living together, and we could have our own girls' house,' she said, giggling. - 'Who would be making the money for you?' he responded, regretting it immediately. - 'I have my own money!' she protested. Thankfully, she was blissfully tipsy and didn't want to start a fight. 'You could be...kicking the ball the whole time,' she continued. 'And we could have fun.'_

_That was the problem. She enjoyed the lifestyle - but she didn't enjoy his part of it. She didn't like the game, she didn't like the stadiums, she didn't care about his trophies. She didn't need his money, and she didn't really need him._

_And he didn't need her._

_That night, while talking with her, he realized one simple truth - he didn't really care about her. It struck him right there and then, in front of a wardrobe of their hotel room, after several glasses of some fancy cocktail, with his wife taking off her makeup in the bathroom and talking about what a great day she had - he couldn't care less. They didn't understand each other. They weren't made for each other._

_He didn't expect this thought to occur here, on a dream-like holiday with some of his teammates and their partners, past midnight, when they're both getting ready for bed. He didn't expect it just a year after the marriage. He didn't expect it to be so...understandable. So calm. Just a thought that appeared out of nowhere._

_Danielle came out of the bathroom, taking her earrings off. 'Did you have a good evening with the guys?'_

_'Yeah, we had...we had a lot of fun,' he answered mechanically._

_It was a night of revelation._

_When he came down to the swimming pool the next morning, ready for a quick dip in the pool, slightly hangover, he already knew he wasn't going to stay with Danielle for the rest of his life._

* * *

"I think I understand that," Roy answered after a moment of silence when he was trying to process his thoughts. "When I was injured after the Haaland tackle, I had my own moment of clarity. I realized there was so much wrong with the way I lived, and I tried to adjust to that. I don't think many other guys were happy with this change." His cheeky smile gave away his true feelings - he was proud of his change. The transformation that happened sometime around the turn of the century changed Keano-Captain Fantastic into Keano-The Machine. "Before, we used to go out drinking, every week, twice a week. I was actually hangover when I tried to tackle Haaland the first time! So it was all my own fault. I felt like shit - And then, at the hospital, too, I started to think about it all. Why is it like this, why am I the one lying there when I should be playing? I think I also realized - " He stopped himself. Wasn't he sharing too much? He's never been too talkative, especially with people he didn't know well. But Souness's eyes were watching him with genuine interest and compassion he couldn't help but spill it out. "I didn't really fit in with the new players. You know, I came into the dressing room of people like Brucey, Pally, Eric - they were the heart of the club. And Lee Sharpe, the sunshine boy - We would always go out together, drink together, and just - be like that. Then they all left or were...shipped out. The new people weren't always my cup of tea. The whole _class of '92_ \- the idea of it - give me a break. The Nevilles with their smoothies and coca-cola and early-to-bed attitude, and the nice boys like Becks - I missed _my_ friends. Maybe that's why it was so bad with me at the end of the nineties. The injury, the red cards, the arrests - if Ferguson had kicked me out back then, I wouldn't have even been surprised. Maybe I would have been happier. Drinking with my friends again and all that." He paused. "I think I could have ended up just dying somewhere in a scarp by the road. I was always trying to walk home on feet - "

"It's good that he didn't get rid of you back then. He knew you had more to offer. More than...Sharpe, for example."

Roy had to laugh. "Yeah, Sharpey wasn't up for it. He wanted fun. I hated fun, I couldn't have it. I mean I could - but mentally, I just never managed to relax - unless I was plastered. So it was either high gear - or drinking." He gulped down more of his juice, almost symbolically. "I don't know how the others managed to put up with it. I feel like I must have been terrible, terrible companion, drunk or not. Gary survived that, so I really respect him. Although sometimes I was maybe too harsh on him - sometimes I thought I would come to the showers and find him and his brother crying on each other's shoulder because I'd said something nasty to them. But once we were out - me, him, Phil, Denis - Denis Irwin - and maybe someone else, I don't remember. It was some time after the attack in Manchester, the IRA and all that. Not great times. But we somehow got into a discussion, a very heated one. We never really discussed the Irishness and Englishness much - but with all the alcohol, it was the main subject. Denis and I started to sing on the street, parts of some rebel songs, as we were used to with the Irish squad - you know, ' _for 800 years we've fought you without fear and we will fight you for 800 more_ '. Poor Gary looked like he was about to shit his pants. It was a bad thing to do, I know that, but we just loved winding him up. Or anyone from their group. They were almost begging us to stop because they thought we would get arrested."

Souness laughed. It wasn't that hard to imagine Gary Neville like that, losing his _know-it-all_ mask and being the weedy defender. He himself wouldn't want to cross drunk Keano singing rebel songs

"It was one of the funny moments. There were plenty I'm sure, but I always seem to remember the bad ones. So it's strange to sometimes listen to Gary when he just starts gabbling about the good times and some funny situations. He can let go. He can have fun. He's not always stressed and anxious, and he's a great guy to be around. It's just that here - I feel like Jamie takes up too much of his time."

"I heard it's not only at work. They go to the gym together..."

"Well, they can do whatever they want for all I care. Gary likes fooling around with pals. He used to be by Becks' side all the time, which is fine - but with a Scouser?"

"They're actually very fond of each other, aren't they?"

"Well, Gary always tries to cover it but I guess they're friends. Have you seen them today? They looked like they were about to throw hands or kiss."

"Maybe the two of them should lead a campaign against homophobia. And against prejudice based on the place where you live and play."

"Yeah, that would suit them," Roy smirked.

* * *

_And then there were men. Men who were like him, who looked like him; men who were like him, men who were equal in every aspect._

_It wasn't just admiring his own style or comparing himself to them - it was different from looking at himself in the mirror and it was different from checking out a girl's body tightly wrapped in a dress. It was the feeling of something similar yet distant, forbidden, and wrong. A man's body - and the man himself. A man in tight jeans, a man with a hairy chest and open shirt, a man with rough hands but gentle eyes. It was all getting way too specific. He didn't see just men - he saw them differently, and he thought about them differently. Maybe he always has, but it was only now that he admitted that, at least to himself. He really wasn't checking out those pants that the good-looking waiter at the restaurant wore for the fashion and material. He was focused on the body, and his mind wandered - what is he doing after his shift? What's his name? Is his skin tanned under his work uniform?_

_And all the rest of it that he forbade himself to even think about._

_His wife started to frown more. And she was very touchy about 'his' football. 'You're always on about the lads, the team - do you ever tell them about me?'_

_Of course, he didn't. Football gave him an opportunity to not mention his wife at all. None of the lads did it anyway._ _He loved it, unapologetically, and he enjoyed it. Just men being men, doing manly things; men in dirty and sweaty kits - those things that were so different from the lavish life at home. He got more kick out of a post-match huddle when Liverpool won that from kissing Danielle on her well-moistured lips and taking her silky smooth tiny hand when he returned home._

_After all those years of trying, he got himself trapped in his own dream, and he needed a way out._

_"Do you really love those ten men more than me?" Danielle asked him, in what turned out to be one of their last arguments._

_And he said he did. "It's football."_

* * *

"They are easily the most popular duo in here. Aren't you jealous?"

"Of what? Them? No, no, really. Doing some quizzes and - I don't even know what is it that they do? - some special programs just to play minigolf or punch a bag or...do the...what is it called, playing with that blow-up ball around you? Zorbing? It's just not for me. Gary likes to make a fool out of himself like that, I can tell you, but I'll pass on that."

"You're still the same generation, almost the same age, aren't you?"

"Yeah but it's not about that. I just don't think it would...suit my character."

"But would you want to be part of it?"

Roy shook his head decisively. "Absolutely not. I think I make a fool of myself in many different ways, I don't need this."

It was hard to admit that maybe, maybe just a little bit - there was a painful sting between his ribs when he watched Gary and Jamie giggle and play-argue in the rehearsal. The glass partition - the same glass partition as in Barcelona in 1999 - was there again. Maybe it has always been there, maybe it has always been him versus everyone else.

"You built your public character on how others see you, didn't you? The public persona, _Roy Keane as the people see him_ \- "

The idea left Roy speechless for a moment. "Well - I suppose so, partly. I reacted to some things, and I liked the fun of making people uneasy, probably - now I just laugh at this whole idea of me bullying my teammates, because it's nonsense. But part of me just played to support this idea - _why_ I don't know. Maybe in a way, it was just dealing with it all. I'm bad at this, I suppose I can't deal with fame normally - I never wanted it. Then I started behaving in a certain way - and it's difficult to let go off that."

"I see. I believe I also went through this, in a way. It can do things to your mind, you know? Just a thing someone says. And then you can only think - I need to be better than that. Stronger. Why has it come to this? Have I allowed this?"

Roy listened quietly, nodding. He's never had a real chance to talk about things like that - things that affected him, as a player, as a manager, as a person. He never wanted to bother Theresa with that. Denis never seemed to care about what people were saying. And Lee was the last person to take him seriously with such talk. It was all coming to him now - just how lonely he's felt for all those years, with no one to talk to.

"And then, all of a sudden," Souness finished, "you have two personalities, the public one and the private one. And they don't always match." He brought the glass to his lips to drink. "If I was younger, I would probably want to be part of it all. I would live differently. I can't be best friends with Gary and Jamie now, can I? It wouldn't...it just wouldn't make sense. It wouldn't be me, Graeme Souness. Let me tell you, I regret some things I have done, and some of those that I haven't. I should have been more relaxed and friendly and open - honest - with myself, with the others. I can't really change now. But sometimes I feel that this - this isn't me. This grumpy old man who sits in a studio and frowns when Neville says something - it shouldn't have ended like this."

"It's definitely not _the end_ \- "

"I'm sixty-six, Roy. The next heart-attack will kill me. I take my pills and try to enjoy simple things like walking my dog or cutting the hedges in the garden. But it's just a way of distracting myself."

* * *

_Then there was the illness. The virus. The plague of the new age._

_They never discussed it in the Sampdoria dressing room openly, unless it was a joke. Since the lads spent a lot of nights out in the downtown of Genoa, looking for some fun, they started making jokes about the virus to make themselves less worried about the possible consequences of some wild one-night hookups._

_"It's terrible today, you can't even be sure about anything - who knows who's got it? " one of his teammates complained after yet another night in some of the local clubs. The other started shushing him - stop being ridiculous, if you're afraid, then don't go, or just simply don't hook up with random girls you've just met._

_But there was also another sentiment._

_"Unless you fuck a guy, you're safe."_

_"Thank God, Jesus Christ! We're all safe then!"_

_Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin._

_Souness soon found himself a new wife and got married again._

* * *

Roy finished his drink. The sound the glass made when he put it back on the table sounded like a full stop behind Souness's sinister words.

"I'm not exactly the most...sunny, bright person," he started carefully. "But I still would say there's something to be optimistic about in life."

"I know. I'm trying my best. I just think it's late now, after all those years."

"It's never late."

A weak smile made Souness's lips curl up. "I'll have to believe that."

Keane nodded. The silence was growing a bit awkward, so he just grabbed his glass again and tried to drink the rest of the juice drops from the bottom of it. "Thank you for the invite - I'll need to go."

"So soon?"

"It's been a long day. With Carra and Nev out there - it's quite challenging. I'm getting old for this too."

"If I asked you to stay here - " The pained look in Souness' eyes wasn't giving anything away, and Roy was confused. Stay here? For another glass? Or staying here - in a hotel? "Would you?"

He shook his head. Either way, the answer was no. This itself was something new, and Roy wasn't a fan of doing too much new stuff at once. "I need to go home. To my wife." He didn't know why he specified it, it just felt like the right thing to do.

"Of course."

"It's been a pleasure - " He reached over the table to shake Souness' hand, which felt limp and lifeless in the handshake, and then pulled a wallet out of his pocket. 

"No, no, Roy - I'll pay." The painful grimace on his face turned into a weak smile.

"No, that's alright - "

" _Roy_." It was a quiet yet persuasive tone that made Roy give up. "I haven't talked to anyone like this for years. It's my pleasure."

Roy nodded and smiled. It's been a pleasure indeed, and for him as well. 

"I just wish you would stay longer."

"Maybe next time," he assured him, getting up. He put on his coat, and while doing it, he noticed how lonely now the older man looks, sitting at the table by himself, with an unfinished glass of wine, a bit slouched, not as elegant as he's always looked in the studio. Gary had warned him before he even started working for Sky Sports that Souness is 'a grumpy and bitter asshole' sometimes, and while Roy had to suppress a smile occasionally when he remembered those words, now neither of them seemed true. He looked old and broken. Miserable. Unbelievable for a man with his career and history and reputation. "Thank you, really."

"No problem."

"See you soon."

"Hopefully."

Keane smiled, turning on his heel. His heart was paralyzed though, and he walked fast to get out of the place. Was he running away? Back in Manchester, he used to visit the team psychologist; something he wasn't terribly proud of, especially since it didn't help him that much - but the man knew what he was talking about. ' _You can't deal with every challenging situation with this fight-or-flight mentality, Roy_.' Was this his flight?

He felt ice-cold shivers running down his spine. It was depressing, seeing Souness like this, and knowing how much they are alike. It was like seeing his own future, or a warning, the writing on the wall.

_Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin._

He didn't want to end up like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Graeme was known as "Champagne Charlie" in Liverpool because he loved good champagne and a bit of dolce vita, and some of his old teammates referred to him (and still do) simply as "Charlie"  
> \- Souness had open-heart surgery in 1992. He's written in his book that being in the hospital waiting for the operation was one of the few moments in his life when he was legitimately afraid. "I can remember being the only person in intensive care. The night light was on and I could see a clock. I’m telling myself ‘Don’t go to sleep because that’s how you die’." He's also had a minor heart attack in 2015.  
> \- look up 1980s Souness in swimming trunks. Straight outta magazine.  
> \- he also dated Miss World, Mary Stavin, supposedly ("He had style, he drank champagne while we were on lager. We were all trying to pull girls from the local supermarket and he walked in with Miss World, Mary Stavin")  
> \- and he did some hilarious fashion photoshoots  
> \- eventually, he married Danielle Wilson, who was from a very rich family (he later divorced her - because she made him choose between her and football - and married his second wife, Karen)  
> \- his teammate Michael Robinson said about him: "I found him a very personal, cuddly chap who was actually quite vulnerable about being a human being with emotions. To this day, he still tries very hard not to be this lovely cuddly person, when really he is."  
> \- the "Manchester attack" that Keane mentions is the 1996 IRA bombing in Manchester, which left around 200 people injured but nobody thankfully died  
> \- the virus mentioned is, of course, HIV; in the early days of the 1980's it was a popular myth that it "just affects gay people" which led towards more hate and stereotyping  
> \- "mene, mene, tekel, upharsin" is from the Bible. it's the warning sign that appeared on the wall, warning the king Belshazzar that the days of his kingdom are numbered; usually, it's used just as "mene tekel" in the meaning of "a warning sign/the writing on the wall"


End file.
